


The ties that bind

by TheRedPoet



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25523839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedPoet/pseuds/TheRedPoet
Summary: Harry Dresden and Lara Raith meet earlier, under different circumstances.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Lara Raith
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	The ties that bind

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this primarily for a friend. To the rest of you, I apologize.

The first time I met Lara Raith I knew she was trouble. I only wish I’d known how much.

I was standing with Michael outside of Bianca’s mansion, taking in the sights and bracing myself for the inevitable shitshow about to unfold, when a limousine pulled up to the curb next to us.

The man who came out and threw his key at a valet belonged on the front page of a harlequin romance novel. He wore a loincloth with a slender sword belted to his hip, and a pair of crystalline wings on his back. Nothing else. I’m comfortably on the far side of the Kinsey scale, and even I had to take a moment to admit that the dude looked good.

He came to a halt when he saw me and his face split in a broad grin.

“Oh my,” he said. “And here I’d thought this shindig was going to be boring. Lara. You simply have to see this.”

A woman followed him out of the car. A few long seconds passed. Michael cleared his throat and elbowed me, and I realised I might’ve been staring. 

She was tall for a woman and in heels, she was of a height with the man. Horns — fake horns, I should say — poked out from her raven locks, and a forked tail — likewise fake — stuck out from beneath her short, red dress. Her raven black hair, milky pale skin and grey eyes were a mirror of the man’s, and I felt reasonably sure they were related.

Lara, presumably, smiled as she took in my costume.

“You will be turning heads tonight, Mr…?”

“Harry Dresden.”

“Ah,” she said. “Of course. The infamous Harry Dresden. I should’ve known. I’m Lara, of House Raith. This is my dear brother Thomas. Who is your dashing companion?”

“My date,” I said shortly, eyeing Michael. “Shall we?”

Michael’s calm, steady gaze was levelled at the strangers. “Yes.”

I forced a smile at Thomas and Lara, showing off the plastic fangs I’d bought at a toy shop for a buck. 

We went inside together and I let Lara and Thomas take the lead. Was it because I didn’t trust them not to stab me in the back or because of the way the dress clung ever so snugly to Lara’s delightfully round posterior?

The answer is yes.

“They’re vampires,” Michael said, voice pitched low. “White Court.”

“I figured that out for myself, thanks,” I whispered back. “Ever dealt with them before?”

“Twice,” Michael said, and he sounded more sad than anything else.

I decided not to press. We were coming up to the party, in any case.

From the vantage point at the top of the stairs I could see the party and party-goers below. I had to give it to the monsters. When they partied, they partied in style. Everyone’s make-up was immaculate, their outfits stylish and daring, and there were drinks to satiate mortals, immortals and everything in between.

I could see Bianca up on a dais in a dress literally made of flames. 

Thomas and Lara were announced, drawing a few interested looks, but nothing more. Then the announcer spotted me, and after a double-take swallowed and said:

“Wizard Harry Dresden of the White Council and guest.”

The room went absolutely quiet. I’m not sure if you’d hear a pin drop, but I did hear one of Bianca’s favourite goons clench his fingers so hard around the stem of his champagne flute that it shattered. Steel rasped out of sheathes and the hammers of guns were cocked. Another successful entrance.

For a second, I was pretty sure that we were about to get Sonny Corleone’d even with the support of Michael’s patron, but in the end, it was Lara who saved our asses.

“I realise you may feast upon them, dead or alive, but I prefer my food to be somewhat more lively. In the spirit of hospitality, would you be so good as to _refrain_?”

Bianca stepped up from her dais, flaming skirts somehow managing to swish, and looked as if she’d just bit into a lemon.

“Miss Raith is correct. For tonight, Harry Dresden enjoys the warm hospitality of the Red Court.” She cast an annoyed look over at the band. “Music.”

The music started up again and Michael and I caught up with Lara, while her brother headed up towards the dais and Bianca.

“What brings you to this event, Mr Dresden?” Lara asked.

She was watching scanning the crowd as she spoke, every so often exchanging a nod or a smile with one of the other guests.

“Work,” I said. “You?”

Lara smiled. “Looking after my little brother. He has a tendency to get himself into trouble.”

“Perhaps we should get to work, Harry,” Michael said. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”

“I hear ya,” I said, looking around. Monsters of every flavour surrounded us, with nothing but the rules of hospitality standing in the way.

“Am I making you nervous, sir knight?” Lara asked.

“No. There are worse monsters here tonight.”

Lara’s smile didn’t falter - it didn’t even flicker. “I don’t know if I am to be flattered or insulted.”

“I would hope neither,” Michael said.

Lara watched him and licked his lips. “Perhaps you could tell me more about that God of yours. I’m sure I would enjoy that.”

It was too early in the evening for things to go completely crazy, so I butted in.

“He’s married.”

“If you think that’s a deterrent-“

“Happily married,” Michael said.

“I‘ve always found that to be oxymoronic.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael said. His gaze shifted from Lara to the people - and non-people - around us, and he frowned. He stepped in closer and spoke in a low, calm voice. 

“Harry, they’re trying to surround us.”

I cast a gaze off to our surroundings. The vampires were being subtle, but Michael was right. They were moving in on us, slowly but surely closing a circle to pin us in. At my side, Lara sighed.

“Dance with me, Mr Dresden?”

She didn’t stop to wait for a yes, and placed my hand on her waist, then took the other in her hand. I fell into the rhythm of the dance quickly, and we began to move towards a gap in the circle the vampires were forming, without making it seem like a mad dash.

“Tell me, Mr Dresden. Why are you really here?”

Maybe it was the cool, silken feel of her hand in mine, or her slender waist underneath my fingertips. Maybe I’d just wanted to tell her all along.

“I’m looking for someone.”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we all, Mr Dresden?”

“Harry. Just call me Harry. You’re creeping me out with the formality.”

She laughed softly and guided us into a spin that smoothly took us out of the circumvallation of the vampires.

“If you’d prefer… Harry.”

A part of me hated the idea of letting her go, but enough was enough.

“How about you? Why are you here?”

Lara shrugged. “Court politics. We are representing our father.”

I looked around. The vampires weren’t going for an encore and Michael was about to catch up to us.

“It doesn’t look so bad. A few monsters, a few death threats.”

Lara smiled grimly. “The night is young.”

She was right. When Bianca brought Lydia out, everything went to shit.

The gardens and the manor burned. So did the guests, guilty and innocent alike. I had a vague memory of Lara helping me out through the smoke, and I dreamt of her sitting at my bedside.

When I woke up all I had were broken fragments of her leaning in to press something cool and soft to my forehead, whispering: “-Take care of you.”

***

The second time I met Lara Raith was at Mac’s tavern. I had a beer in hand and sat half-slouched over the bar counter. Oh, and Duke Paulo Ortega, the Red Court warlord, was also around.

She settled on the bar stool next to me. I cast her a sideways glance. Beyond her, Ortega and Shiro were talking about… something under Kincaid’s watchful gaze. She was sitting only an inch or two away and the scent of her perfume might have distracted me.

Lara was wearing a skirt suit that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the halls of congress. Except for the two buttons she’d left undone on her shirt, of course.

“Harry,” she said. “We run into one another in the unlikeliest of places.”

“Seems so. Did you get roped into being Ortega’s second?”

“Yes. He wanted my father as his second in show of solidarity in _our_ ongoing war with the wizards of the White Council. Father, sadly, was preoccupied, and so sent me.”

Her words dripped sarcasm and I found myself grinning. Lara was a monster, but I had to admit she was a likeable monster. I raised my glass.

“To solidarity.”

Lara smiled behind her own beer bottle and sipped slowly. “Why did you accept the duel?”

Why invent when you can steal? “Nothing wrong with a little bit of shooting, so long as the right people get shot.”

Lara rolled her eyes. “Far be it from me to dispute the wisdom of Clint Eastwood, but I must ask if you’ve really thought this through.”

“He threatened to kill my friends if I didn’t do the duel. If I do this, win or lose, at least they’re safe.”

Lara opened her mouth to say something, but stopped at the sound of a chair being pushed back. Irritation flickered across her gorgeous features for a moment and she caught my eyes. She mouthed a single word.

“Later.”

Ortega came up and settled beside Lara at the bar counter, putting her between us. I could see her mouth twist up in distaste for a moment before she turned around with the flash of a beauty pageant smile.

“Paulo.”

“Miss Raith.” He answered her with an equally warm, equally empty smile. “I see you have already made Mr Dresden’s acquaintance.”

“I have. We met back at dear Bianca’s party a few years ago and he made quite the first impression.”

Ortega’s smile didn’t flicker, but some of the warmth slipped out of his voice. “I’m certain that he did. Shall we talk business?”

Lara smiled again. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

She walked over to Kincaid and Shiro and I’m pretty sure Ortega said a thing or two, but I’ve no idea what it was. Watching Lara walk away in that skirt was more interesting.

“Dresden,” Ortega said, and I could hear the fraying edge of his patience in his voice now. “I do not wish for this.”

I frowned and tried to shake the image of the way Lara’s skirt hugged- 

Listen. I could’ve given you the details of what Ortega and I talked about. He didn’t want to fight. Not the war, not the duel. Nada. He just wanted things to go back to normal, but for that to happen, I either had to die or surrender and become one of his lackeys. Both options that warranted a solid, ten out of ten, “fuck you.”

Or I could tell you about the way Lara’s skirt and how snugly it hugged the curves of her ass - so snugly, in fact, that I felt pretty confident she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I could tell you about the sway of her hips as she walked and how, before she sat down at the table with Kincaid and Shiro, how she cast me a look over her shoulder along with a wicked little smile.

One was a hell of a lot better than the other.

“Listen, Paulo,” I said. “I think we both know where this is going. Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”

I’m not sure if it was the flippant attitude or the way I used his first name, but a brief, brief flash of madness flickered over his dark eyes. Then he pushed away from the counter and offered me his hand.

“I regret the necessity of this, Dresden, but you me no choice. I will kill you.”

I shook his hand, ignoring the cold slithering energy crawling up my arm. “You’ll try. You’re not the first.”

He inclined his head and turned on his heel, stalking out of the building without looking back. Lara sauntered up to me, one eyebrow raised.

“You have such a way with words, Harry,” she said, her voice low and darkly amused.

“Thank you?”

“It is nothing. We monsters often say things that you mortal wish to hear… All the better to lure you in and devour you. You may trust us… but you’d be safer if you did not.”

I blinked. It wasn’t how she said it, but something about the look she gave me as she did gave me the feeling she was trying to tell me something.

I gave her a nod. “It was nice to meet you again, miss Raith. I hope things go as well as last time.”

She leaned in a little closer, so that only I could see her wink, and said: “Try not to die, Dresden.”

***

I groaned out loud when there was a knock at the door and seriously considered just ignoring it.

My everything hurt, but the steady, pounding throb in my shoulder from the gunshot wound was particularly god-awful. Butters had helped me out with a sling, which helped, but the prospect of any movement that wasn’t flicking over to the next page of my book was daunting.

But then, I might have ordered pizza and forgotten about it. Pizza was good. I’d get up for the prospect of pizza. Did I mention Butters also got me some painkillers? That might’ve influenced my thinking as I pushed myself to my feet and opened the door.

Lara Raith stood outside my apartment, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, a tank-top, and an open hoodie, with the hood drawn up. She’d left a pair of shades hanging at the cleavage of her top.

A moment of silence followed and stretched on as I tried to piece together enough of my thoughts to form words into a sentence. I had mixed success.

“Uh. Hey.”

Lara adjusted her sunglasses, looking down them at me. “Hello there, Harry. I’m glad to see you survived.”

“Oh, you know me. I’m a survivor.” I had to stop myself from breaking into song. Whatever Butters had given me was good shit. “I guess I should thank you. You were right about Ortega.”

She inclined her head. “Of course I was. I’ve dealt with him before. Even my father feared him. I heard he had a bit of an accident a few days ago.”

“Very tragic,” I said. “Do you want to come inside? I have coffee somewhere. I think. Pretty sure there’s beer.”

Lara seemed surprised and it was only then that I realised I’d just invited the vampire inside. One of The Things You Don’t Do… and I’d just done it.

She hesitated for a moment. “Very well.”

I went for a beer and the vampire took that moment to look around my apartment. There wasn’t a whole lot to see, really. A single living room and kitchen combined, with a tiny bedroom and bathroom.

I gave her a bottle and took a sip of my own beer. 

“Why did you help me?”

It was probably stupid to ask, and even more stupid to expect an honest answer, but I was too tired and hurt too much to care.

Lara shrugged. “You amuse me.”

I eyed her with as steady a look as the meds permitted. “Come on. We both know that’s not good enough, even if it was true.”

Lara considered me for a few long moments. “There are a great many reasons why I should let you live. I doubt you’d believe half, so let me tell you the reason you will.”

Was that bitterness in her tone? 

“You are a preferable alternative to the Red Court. Easier to divide, to manipulate and to destroy.” Her eyes drifted over me for a moment and the flash of hunger that rendered them chrome colored for a moment reminded me of just how vulnerable I’d left myself. “Not to mention, doing any of those things to you is far more palatable than doing them to the Red Court.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I can believe that.”

She smiled. “Neither of us wish to see the White Council fall to the Red Court. If they do, it will not be long before my kind follow. For now, we have a common interest.”

I raised my bottle to her. “Not sure how that explains why you’re here, but I can get behind the notion of messing up the Red Court.”

We were getting past the foreplay now and down to whatever point she’d been greasing me up for.

“Excellent. Then I think we have enough common ground to work together.”

“To destroy the Red Court. That’s why you came here. You want them gone.”

“It is, in part, why I came here. Yes.” Her smile widened into something just a touch predatory and as she leaned forward towards me, my eyes dipped down.

She wore a necklace and something silvery glittered between the pale, gorgeous swells of her breasts.

I tore my gaze away, but it was too late. Far too late. Lara was watching me watching her and looking decidedly smug. Her eyes had darkened from periwinkle blue to gray.

“Do take care of yourself, Harry. I have work for you - paid, of course - And some of it might be rather strenuous.”

“And what do I get? I asked.

She’d been half-way through a dramatic turn and my words brought her to a halt. She returned her attention to me and raised an eyebrow at me, hands behind her back, spine slightly arched.

“I don’t know, Harry. What would you like for me to give you?”

“Money always works. Gotta keep pace with my crippling caffeine addiction somehow.”

She inclined her head. “Very well. Enough business, for now. How are you doing?”

I frowned. That question was almost as frightening as any display of supernatural power. “How am I doing?”

“Yes. The woman who was injured defending you… She was your lover, wasn’t she?”

I winced. “Girlfriend, and yeah. She was. Past tense being key. Why do you ask?”

“I read her column in The Arcane. She was a gifted woman. Had she continued to delve into the supernatural, I may have had to seduce her and persuade her to desist.”

I was pretty sure she was joking. I may have been mildly distracted by the mental image.

“Ah. I saw that she was injured. Did she survive?”

“Yeah. Why do you care?”

“I’m not entirely heartless, Harry. In any case, it’s in my interest to look after my- business partner.”

I sighed and slowly made my way out of the couch to get us another round of beer. “Alright then, partner. Tell me more.”

***

Over the next few months, Lara and I… colluded. She slipped me some information which I, in turn, slipped to the Wardens. I did a few jobs for her in return, which paid well, and did a lot of good.

So, when Lara called me in to help out her friend, the movie director, I didn’t think much of it. Then I arrived at the shoot, and things went downhill from there.

I didn’t even make it through the doors before someone mistook me for a different kind of private dick than I really was and it soon became apparent just what kind of movie Arturo Genosa was going to make. 

A porno.

Lara Raith had gotten me an undercover job trying to look out for the director of a porno. That probably shouldn’t have taken me by surprise, in retrospect. I was trying to sort that particular twist of fate out and found myself stumbling past the dressing rooms (whoever Trixie Vixen was, she was very angry at someone about something) into the backstage area.

I could see all sorts of cameras sent up around a stage, and people were moving around busily, rearranging the set, the lights, and preparing things.

Oh boy.

I gathered my will and began to weave energies around myself in a sort of anti-magic bubble. I’d had to come up with the idea for a visit to Larry Fowler’s show a year back and he still hadn’t gotten over how I’d wrecked his studio. Since then, I’d improved upon the spell.

A bit.

I gave the computers a wide berth just in case, and almost walked into a plain-looking woman in her early forties who was working on some wiring. She did some technical nonsense, finished with a flourish, and turned to me with a warm smile strained by stress.

“Hey. You’re the new guy, right? Harry?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry if I’m late. I had car issues.”

Said issues had been a giant winged monkey-demon throwing napalm-poo. I’m not even kidding. I wish I was.

“Sort it out,” she said, without any heat. “We’re short on time as it is with Trixie acting up.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

She brushed back auburn locks from her eyes. “I’m Joan. I’m the producer… and whatever else that needs doing here.”

Joan began to work on another camera. “You’re the production assistant… Arturo never said who recommended you. Have you worked on the set of a movie before?”

“No. First time. I heard I was going to be Key Grip and misunderstood what that meant, so I said yes right away.”

Joan just raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ll help out wherever you’re needed. Don’t worry. Most of the time, you’ll be getting people coffee. So long as you get their orders right, you’ll be fine.”

I fished out my notepad and pen. “I think I can do-”

I cut off, and at first I didn’t know why. The actors were filing out onto the stage, with Arturo following along deep in conversation with one of them. A pale, dark-haired woman who I recognised with a surge of dread and excitement.

Lara Raith.

By the time I remembered I was supposed to be having a conversation, Joan was watching me with an amused expression.

“Every time,” she said. “The woman knows how to make an entrance, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” I said, and my voice came out lower and rougher than I would’ve preferred. “Who is she?”

“Lara Romani,” Joan supplied. “She was supposed to be retired, but Emma’s kid got sick, and like I said, we’re running short on time. She’s an old friend of Arturo’s.”

“Ah.” I hesitated for a moment. “Coffee?”

Has anyone told you never to learn how your favourite food is made? It’s true. Especially sausages. The metaphor doesn’t work all the way for porn, but it’s not a mile off.

Hours had gone by and despite the very attractive, very naked people on stage, doing things that I’m sure editing and some cheesy saxophone music would make appealing in the end, I was bored out of my mind.

Trixie and Jake were in the middle of a scene and Arturo was constantly rearranging things right up until the… uh- climactic - Uh - Climax.

I provided towels afterwards, but at least I wasn’t expected to help clean up. I could feel Lara’s attention settle like a lead weight on my shoulders whenever she so much as glanced in my direction. Her scene was up next, with Jake and Giselle, and I grabbed a donut while I waited for the minutes to tick on by.

The set had been changed around into a pretty good approximation of an old pub and the scene seemed to revolve around something like that. Arturo spent a great deal of time on the lighting, ensuring that Lara, who wore a trench coat and hat taken straight out of a noir film, remained in enough shadow to hide her face.

Even so, Trixie took enough time out of hanging out in her dressing room and getting high to walk by the stage and glare daggers at Lara. I wrote her down as suspect number one.

The scene started and they settled into the pre-sex dialogue that’s usually the funniest part of what little porn I’ve seen. Credit where it’s due, though. Both Lara and Jake did a pretty good job, with Giselle struggling to keep up.

It wasn’t as boring, but even then, there were the starts and stops of the director calling cuts, the camera-people changing positions, and make-up being applied everywhere. And I do mean everywhere.

The scene progressed. Lara’s coat was open, revealing that she wore absolutely nothing underneath. Jake and Giselle - uh - let’s just say they made a cooperative effort. 

Time seemed to slow down. Lara took charge as much as the director, and the scene played out smoothly. Her hips arched forward. Lara grabbed onto the bar counter behind her, knuckles turning white.

Then she turned her head ever so slightly, looked straight at me, and I could feel the beginnings of a soulgaze. Then Lara’s eyes drifted shut. She shivered and cried out, and then slowly relaxed. She turned her gaze towards me once more, wearing a smug little smile, and licked her lips.

Gulp.

Well, I stand corrected. Pornos weren’t all dull. So long as you had Lara Raith on stage. She knew damn well how to put on a show.

Arturo let the camera roll for a while as Lara, Giselle and Jake broke character and just talked, and eventually called the cut.

***

We worked for most of the day and well into the evening, with actors coming and going, sets being re-arranged, and I only ruined one camera. Eventually, things wrapped up for the day, and I was just about to pack my things up and head home when Jake came up to me.

“Hey. Harry, was it?”

I tried to think of what the appropriate way was to greet someone you’d just seen have sex several times, with several women, right in front of you. I eventually went with.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Lara wanted to have a word with you.”

“If it’s about the pineapple on the pizza, I didn’t tell them to add that.”

“Nah. It’s probably cool, man. Listen, I gotta go, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He walked over to Giselle, who was waiting for him, and they left together… and I made my way over to Lara’s dressing room. My heart was pounding in my chest and my palms were sweaty.

I took a moment to breathe and try to calm down. It went so-so, and I decided to hell with it, and knocked.

“Come in,” Lara said from beyond the door, and I pulled it open.

Lara’s dressing room was a spartan affair. An adjacent bathroom, a sofa, a few bags, and that was about it. The White Court vampire sat on the sofa in a white terry cloth bathrobe, legs crossed, hair still wet from the shower.

I would’ve expected anyone to be tired after a long day of shooting, but Lara all but glowed, and she smiled brightly at me.

“Harry. How’re you enjoying the movie so far?”

“Not as much as you are, I think,” I said dryly, leaning back against the wall just beside the door.

She laughed merrily. “That’s probably true. Have you found anything out yet?”

“Nothing big. Trixie doesn’t like you, but that’s not exactly a secret.”

“That it isn’t. She may be many things, but subtle is not one of them. Do you have anything else?”

“Not yet. I’ll keep looking tomorrow.”

Lara pursed her lips and nodded. “What do you think of Arturo?”

Something about the way she asked made me sure the answer mattered. “Seems like a nice man.”

Lara nodded in approval. “He is. It’s a rare thing, in this business, to find someone like him.”

“I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”

Lara smiled and crossed her legs. It was difficult to decide which of the two to watch. “How are you doing, Harry?”

I shrugged. “I’m alright.”

She gave me a look and held my gaze for a little bit. “I’m glad you feel comfortable sharing these things about yourself with me, Harry.”

I snorted. “It’s been pretty bad since Susan left, but it’s getting better now. “

Lara smoothed out the bathrobe and it slipped an inch, baring even more or her long, pale legs.

“Good. Such things take time.” She smiled, and it was strangely comforting.

“More than I’d like.”

“They always do.” She yawned. “Would you follow me to my car?”

My heart started beating a little faster. Was she trying to suggest… No. Surely not.

“Sure.”

Lara watched me, one eyebrow raised. “I will need to get dressed. Will you be staying to watch?”

She reached for the belt of her robe, beginning to untie it, and I sprung to my feet. “No. I’ll be outside.”

Her laughter followed me all the way out until I closed the damn door, and it wasn’t until I stood there, with my back leaned up against the wall, that I realised she’d very likely not cared if I’d stayed.

What on earth was I doing? She might be nice enough for a vampire, but she was still a damn vampire. She was dangerous.

The door opened and Lara came out, wearing a casual burgundy dress that left plenty of her legs showing. She rested her hand on my arm. “Shall we?”

We walked through the corridors, sets and out into the parking lot. I’d just set my foot on the gravel when I felt a cold, slithering sensation crawl up my spine. The next few seconds passed with me running on pure reflex. I pulled Lara in close, drew my staff in a quick circle around us, and slammed my will into the construct.

A moment later, the source of my bad feeling came out of the shadows. Vampires. Five black court vampires.

Lara stiffened when she saw them and I tightened my arms around her. “Don’t move. You’ll break the circle.”

Lara relaxed just a fraction. Enough for me to loosen my grip on her and reach for my blasting rod. The thing with Black Court vampires was that there were two kinds. The Master vampires, and their serfs. The Master possessed a will of their own and to them, my circle was entirely useless. Against the other kind, it was an impenetrable barrier. So as I stayed inside.

The dark shapes formed a loose circle around us, standing as still as rotting, dead-eyed statues. Waiting.

“They are speaking to their master,” Lara said.

“Great,” I whispered, then raised my voice. “Hey. Tell whoever sent you they better come down and say hi themselves if they want to take a shot at me.”

The vampires spoke. All five of them. At the same time. “Arrogant child. You assume we have come for you. Your assumption is incorrect. Stand aside and you may go free. Lower the circle, and your life will be spared. I am here for the White Court bitch.”

Tension gathered in Lara’s body. She was getting ready to act. I decided to beat her to the punch.

“Well, that’s too bad. You can’t have her. Scram.”

“It is a long time until dawn, little wizard. We have time.”

Something clicked behind me. “I’m afraid you don’t.”

Lara raised a gun above her head and pulled the trigger. The roar of the discharge was painfully loud and I winced hard enough to almost stumble out of the circle, but this time, Lara was the one to steady me.

“The police will be on their way. Sooner or later. You may kill them, of course, but more will come.”

They all bared their teeth, hissing in anger. “You will die. If not tonight, then tomorrow.”

They faded out into the darkness once more… and it wasn’t until after the immediate shock and the ringing in my ears had faded that I realised what position I was in. Lara and I were still in the circle. I had my arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and had her pulled snugly against me. The night air was cool, but her skin was warm, and her hair smelled amazing, and-

I felt myself… React.

“We should-” I swallowed. “Uh. We should probably.”

“Not yet,” Lara said. “They may still be lurking somewhere out there.”

She had a point. Probably. I wasn’t thinking very clearly. It wasn’t made any easier by Lara moving around, pressing her posterior up against the front of my jeans. My breath caught in my throat, and she let out a low, throaty laugh.

“Oh my, Harry. I see you rose to the occasion in more sense than one.”

“Are you seriously doing this? Now?”

She gave another quite pointed wiggle. “Whyever not?”

“Because those things might still be out there.”

Lara made a thoughtful noise. “Not very close, but yes. We need to leave and find a safehouse.”

“My apartment’s warded.”

I don’t know what I was thinking when I said it. I do know I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding like an invite to anything beyond hiding out in my apartment, but when Lara turned with a wicked little smirk, I knew that wasn’t how it had come out sounding.

“That sounds acceptable. Lead the way.”

We took the Blue Beetle back to my apartment. Not the kind of care you’d generally want to take a woman like Lara Raith anywhere in, but definitely the kind of car you’d want when dealing with supernatural horrors like the Black Court.

Lara kept an eye out while I disabled the wards over my door, and I led her inside with an arm around her waist. Once the door was closed, locked and deadbolted, Lara didn’t move away from me. She turned on the spot, her blue eyes touched with flecks of chrome.

“I suppose we are even now, Harry.”

She raised a hand to my cheek, drawing her nails along the stubble. I swallowed. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest she probably could hear it.

“You could’ve taken them.”

She laughed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

She was mere inches away, looking up at me. I found myself brushing a few stray dark locks away from her cheek.

“We had a deal.”

She leaned into my touch. “We both know that isn’t why. We can talk about it later. Now that we’re stuck here, Harry. What would you have us do?”

What would I have us do?

I kissed her.

Lara responded immediately and hungrily, molding her body to mine. I helped her along, drawing my hands down along her shoulders and her back until I had her rear cupped in my hands. I pressed her closer to me, and she made a low, throaty sound against my lips.

“Bedroom?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her to my bedroom. For once, I really appreciated having a tiny apartment, because Lara wasn’t some dainty little thing.

We fell into bed, hands roaming, clothes being thrown aside until we lay naked together. I broke the kiss for a moment, panting and letting taking a moment to enjoy the sight of Lara Raith naked.

Because come on, who wouldn’t?

She was all sumptuous curves and lithe muscle beneath milky pale skin. My eyes lingered on the curves of her breasts.

Again. Who wouldn’t?

A necklace lay nestled between them, silver gleaming in the candlelight. I was about to take a closer look at it when Lara clearly decided she’d done enough waiting. She grabbed hold of me, shifted her hips forward, and guided me inside of her.

That was the end of any thinking and we both lost ourselves in each other. Lara let me take the lead for a while, then rolled us over and took the lead. One hand slipped between our bodies, helping herself along, and the other found mine. She clasped our fingers, squeezing tight.

She kissed me again until she had to break away, moaning against my lips. Tension was gathering in her and thank god for that, because I was right there with her. She shivered, cried out, and met my eyes as the climax washed over her, and as I followed helplessly along.

Then the soulgaze began.

I saw Lara Raith for who she truly was. The woman. Her wit, her intelligence, her bravery and her resolve… And the monster. The Hunger. The creature that pushed her, drove her, and that she would be locked in a battle of wills with for the rest of her immortal existence.

And then a woman appeared from out of the darkness. Tall, vibrant, with burgundy hair that flowed down her back. I recognised her from faded photos and disjointed fragments of memory. My mother. Margaret Lefay.

Then realisation struck with the force of a sledgehammer. This was Lara’s soul.

Our mother.

I tore myself out of the soulgaze and, again, was thankful that my apartment was a tiny one, because it meant that I only had a few feet to cover to get to the bathroom. Even then, I barely made it to the toilet before I threw up.

God knows how long I sat there, spitting bile, eventually just dry heaving.

Steps padded along the floor behind me and someone wiped at my mouth, then flushed. Lara settled behind me and wrapped her arms tight around me, pressing the soft swells of her breasts against my back.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”


End file.
